Caution -- I'm Majorly Pissed Off

I have noticed something about myself. It could quite possibly be a bad thing.

I dislike my family. Of course, I'll always love my family. But I realize that I cannot stand them. They lie to each other. Talk about each other. Try to tell you how to be. Define you. I don't understand. If blood is a bond, why must they act this way? They do a lot for us, family. They clothe us, feed us, bathe us. But I don't understand why I cannot truly be myself or be appreciated for being myself when sitting next to the people who are supposed to love me the most. [And I know thousands of other people feel the exact same way…]

I dislike my room. I think it's because none of it is mine. The furniture isn't mine, and I didn't get to pick it out. I moved all but a couple pieces of it out of my room. In a fury, I took everything from high school and put it out in the hallway over a month ago and haven't touched it since. I think it doesn't reflect me. But then I wonder, who am I?

I dislike my house. I dislike how it was built wrong. I don't like how things are a certain way and how I can't change it.

I say these things because I've noticed that when I don't like something, I simply ignore it. My environment in college was very controlled. I didn't allow anyone with bad vibes in, I didn't allow men in, I didn't allow drugs or alcohol in, I didn't allow anyone who could hurt me emotionally in. I'm very synchronized with my surroundings emotionally. I was very unattached to everything in college, because I realize I can get myself caught up in other people's emotions. I did this for my health. A specialist I had at some point noticed this, I think. He tried to give me medication to calm me down. I decided to calm myself down. And if an emotion isn't happy, I don't let it in- I ignore it. I allow myself to cry when I feel like it. Just because I know that if I don't control it all, I'll get hurt.

Moving on.

So I think I'm ignoring my family, my room, and my house. I have strong emotional ties to all three. My family is who raised me. My room is my comfort, and my home is where I live. Of course I have strong ties to those things. I'm ignoring them. All three. My room is a literal mess. I hate the mess. My house is just awful, but it's too big to fix; it's not my house to fix. My family keeps doing things for me and getting into situations where I should react. I don't do a thing about any of it. I just can't. The overwhelming force of it [and other things] just lands me in bed, sleeping fitfully with bad dreams and waking up in a cold sweat.

My mother is pissed at me. Okay. Nice. But I don't understand why she calls me selfish and ungrateful. Maybe I'm a lazy conceited bitch, but I'm not selfish and ungrateful. I know it seems like I care more about my TV shows or my Internet than my surroundings. My surroundings hurt too badly. I don't like the vibes of you lying and hurting people. I can shut the TV or the computer off; I can't shut off family.

I'll try to be better. All I am able to do is try. I'll start with my room and work outward. Internal to external. Heal myself before I help others.

However. Don't play like it's all okay, mother. Don't pretend like it's all alright, father. You want me to believe in my family, to honor my family? Why honor people who don't care to honor me with anything other than materials? Why honor someone who won't come to see me graduate or congratulate me on my achievements? You expect me to excel. I expect you to support me in anything. You expect me to honor you? I expect you to respect me. You expect me to free my mind? I expect you to free my soul. You expect me to be a young woman full of promise and open-mindedness. I expect you not to condemn people for their looks or their beliefs. You want me to feel empowered? Stop forcing me to feel so helpless. You expect me to know how to speak; I expect you to not tell me to shut my mouth. You want me to listen? I expect you to look me in the eye when I'm talking to you. You want me to help you? I expect you to brush the dust off my hair when I fall in the sand.

Another note but in the same rant: You want my sister to stop cutting herself? Stop making her feel like she's nothing. You want my sister to stop acting the way she does? Teach her how to be herself.

I wish and pray to God that someday I'll be able to take the fervor with which I wrote this and direct it toward writing something decent. Or at least direct it towards something other than an empty word document and a goddamn keyboard.

It hurts, you know. To know that the same people who're supposed to love you above all else, who are supposed to lift you up to the very stars you're trying to reach, who are supposed to be waiting to catch you if you fall… to know that they've taken the floor from under you before you could even know comprehend the meaning of the word "walk," let alone do it.

But you don't need a floor to fly, do you?

^^^^^

My goal tomorrow is to not leave my room (save for food, water, bathroom). Contemplate my predicament. See if I can figure myself out. See if I can fix this madness.

I feel better getting that out on paper. Good night.